


And Justice For All

by CassInBoots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anders as Justice/Vengeance, Aroused Victim, M/M, Object Insertion, Omega Cullen, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Treat, mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassInBoots/pseuds/CassInBoots
Summary: As the Chantry burns, Kirkwall falls to the rebel mages. All templars are locked away in the dungeons beneath the keep and as the last of the lyrium leaves Cullen's system, the part of himself that it has always suppressed rises to the surface.
Relationships: Anders/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	And Justice For All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salazarastark (niewanyin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/gifts).



The damp stone of the dungeon wall was cool against Cullen's cheek.

So far beneath the ground there were small beads of moisture that gathered on the stone and in his delirium they felt like rain against his skin. Each drop blessedly cold until his fever heated them and they slipped down his neck and into the collar of his shirt, making the fabric heavy and damp.

He had never thought that he would be glad to be stripped of his armour but as the last of the lyrium worked its way out of his system and the hot madness of everything it had been suppressing crawled into its place, he thanked the Maker that he was not clad in any more than his underclothes.

It had been three days in the dungeon, each more maddening than the last. First withdrawal had dug its claws into him and then a second, crueller torture had began -- the sudden consuming rush of desire that he had not felt in some five years.

After his first taste of lyrium they had promised that the physical symptoms of his birth would be put to bed forever, these torturous cycles of need a thing of the past. Trusting in it, he had become complacent, had not even considered how ill-equipped such a long period of suppression would leave him when the lyrium fell away.

His whole body ached with a restless need to move, to seek relief in another's touch. But he was alone in the cell and his chains did not let him get near enough to the bars to even brush fingers with the Templars on either side of him.

In the cell to his right was Meredith, chained in the same manner he was. During the long hours of the night he had watched her fight her own struggle against the beast that slept within. Earlier he had pulled as hard as he could at his chains to try and get at her, the thick heady scent of her becoming stronger and stronger as the lyrium lost its strength. Even now, knowing that he could not get to her, his mind taunted him with the idea of her touch, the relief that even a faint brush from one of her kind would bring.

It disgusted him the way he could almost think of nothing else -- if not her, then the others locked with them in the cells. Occasionally he heard their frustrated yells or torturous cries and his addled brain filled in all the visual gaps with images so explicit it shamed him to think of them. His old mentors, friends, holding him down and whispering things in his ears, exploring every inch of his body in the most devious and enticing ways. 

He fantasised that one of them would break loose and come find him, pry the bars that held him captive apart and then take him until he begged them to stop. Each time he imagined it his breath quickened and his body heated further and further. His cock had been hard now for hours and the thin fabric of his breeches was damp and clinging with evidence of his lust. It ached painfully, throbbing with the hot passage of blood beneath his skin, and only the very last shred of his dignity stopped him from rubbing himself against the wall in search of relief.

To his shame he knew that if his cell had walls instead of just bars, he probably would have given in some time ago, but he could not bear the thought of Meredith, of all his fellow knights, watching him rut against the stone like an animal.

\----

When the door to the cell finally swung open, Cullen had been slumped against the wall for more time than he cared to recall. Shivers racked his body, alternating with moments of intense burning heat. Tight pinpricks of pain had become the only sensation from his nipples and his cock refused to cease throbbing.

The mage Anders, and whatever it was that resided inside him, stood watching him, the same haunting light spilling out from cracks in his face as it had done three days past on the battlefield.

Cullen sensed an almost physical anger rolling off him, a maelstrom of magic and manifested emotion that crowded around them and lit the air with a tinted glow.

"You have had your fun," he said between gritted teeth. "Kill me or let me go."

Anders laughed and his body seemed to ripple with power. He appeared stronger since the Chantry had fallen and he smelled of tantalising things that Cullen did not want to think of.

Anders stepped closer to him. "You see the results of your Order's meddling? You see what the Chantry does to those who serve it unthinkingly? This forcing you to hide yourself, to dose yourself with poison?"

Cullen turned his head away. Up close Anders' presence felt like a crackling fire, too hot, too powerful for his malfunctioning senses.

"Leave me," he said raggedly. "Just leave, I beg you. I have no energy to talk and not enough mind left to try and persuade you I am not a villain."

Anders' lifted and then cocked as if he had heard something amusing.

"Oh we are all villains," he said. Then he reached out with a hand and clasped Cullen's chin.

Cullen jerked, expecting the touch to burn, but it was the opposite. The contact seemed to soothe his madness and each finger became a thread of relief, as if someone was pulling him out of a pit towards the light.

"What are you - "

"My first lover was like you," Anders said. "They hurt him."

He moved closer again and his stare was so intense that Cullen found he could not look away from his gaze, even as his hands splayed out behind him on the wall in alarm.

"Perhaps I should hurt you like they hurt him."

The fingers clasping his chin let go but then reappeared at Cullen's mouth. They touched the dry and bitten skin there with the same casual possessiveness as they had his chin and it was not until Anders sighed that Cullen realised he had sagged in his chains, had moved forward into the touch.

He pulled back in horror but the moment he lost contact with Anders' hand all relief from the burning heat inside him disappeared in favour of a sudden dizziness that had him seeing two mages stood before him instead of one, their hands outstretched.

"Hush," the mages said. Then they moved in so close that they became one again and Anders' mouth tilted in a smile that seemed sardonic, mocking.

Cullen felt almost sure that he was caught within a spell that slowed time. Every moment seemed to drag yet he felt like he could not accurately follow what was happening. His consciousness tugged at him in a confusing rush of alarm and fear, then an instant eagerness as Anders' wrapped fingers round his neck.

"No -"

The fingers tightened and he choked. His vision darkened and then sparked with bursts of light. It took him a moment to realise he had closed his eyes and another moment before he realised he was straining against the chains and towards Anders.

"Stop!"

He struggled, his eyes flying open as he fought for control of his own body. He tried to kick his legs out towards Anders only for them to slip against each other and fall back uselessly. He stared down at them in confusion, only realising as he did that the slipperiness between his thighs was of his own making. 

"Do not do this, please."

But Anders no longer seemed interested talking, indeed in doing anything but exploring Cullen's skin, pinching as he went. First he squeezed the soft skin of the lobe of Cullen's ear, pulling it taut before releasing it sharply. Cullen's mouth opened on a protest but words failed him as heady sensations spun out from where Anders had touched him. The fingers went lower, testing the skin on Cullen's neck with sharp tugs. Each pull or twist sent a strike like lightning down Cullen's body that seemed to centre on his cock and pull gasps from his mouth.

"No more," he begged as Anders' fingertips brushed his nipples. He did not think he could take touch there, the mere thought of it filled him with dread. They were too strained already, too tight with neglect.

It was little use. Anders squeezed them both at once and with such pressure that Cullen strained up onto his toes to try and avoid it. It hurt, the pain almost unbearable until Anders let go and heady waves of pleasure took its place. Cullen's mouth filled with saliva he suddenly did not have the ability to swallow. The images from before filled his head - hands holding him down, his body being used as others pleased - and he struggled to cope with the overload.

\----

Anders' shortly took umbrage with his shirt and tore it right down the centre of Cullen's chest. He followed up with further pinches and scrapes to the skin of Cullen's stomach and chest, then a teasing scratch with all his fingers at once just under the waistline of Cullen's breeches.

Cullen made a noise he did not recognise as all the air in his chest expelled in shock at such a sensation. He would never have said prior that he had an inclination for pain, for the rough kind of treatment that Anders seemed to enjoy bestowing on him so deliberately, but his body seemed determined to prove otherwise. It made each move all the more extreme, each advance on his body a new and strangely exhilarating kind of thrill that he did not know how to fight.

When Anders unbuttoned his breeches and then pushed them down, Cullen did not even know how to fight it. His body was too hot for the brush of cool air against his cock to feel anything but good, a gentle caress amid the rest of the roughness.

"Very pleasing," Anders said.

Then hands clasped Cullen's face and he was forcibly kissed in a way that made him feel as if he were being consumed. So much magic so close to him made his mind buzz as if sparks had crawled inside him and lit him from the inside. Each second of Anders' mouth on his both eased the rushing heat that plagued him and seemed to stoke it further stil.

His mouth fell open and Anders took the opportunity to put his tongue inside it. 

It should have been simple, almost virtuous after Anders' fingers tight round his nipples and tighter round his neck, but it was more intimate than them both. It felt profane, like a sin that he definitely should not like but also could not stop himself from indulging.

When Anders pulled back for breath, Cullen hated the sudden distance between them almost as much as he hated the parts of his body that wanted nothing other than to ask for more.

With a lazy smile, Anders placed his fingers back on Cullen's now slick mouth. 

"How wet are you for me, Templar?" 

At first Cullen did not understand what he was being asked and could only think of his mouth. Then shame rolled over him as he realised what Anders meant and how impossibly clear the answer was now that he was naked.

Anders' palms skated over his legs and then grasped them firmly and pulled them apart.

Air hit the dampness on Cullen's inner thighs and made his skin prickle. He felt vulnerable to Anders' gaze and tried to pull his thighs back together only for Anders to tighten his grip and hold him exactly where he was.

Moving forward, Anders brought his body into the space between Cullen's legs, making escape impossible. Then, seemingly satisfied, he released Cullen's thighs and instead trailed his blunt nails across his legs and then behind and up towards his ass.

Cullen scrabbled to avoid the fingers that tried to penetrate him but the brief touch against his hole distracted him in the midst of his struggle. Anders grabbed firmly onto one of his cheeks to hold him still and then what could only be his thumb slid inside Cullen.

He had to be wearing a ring for the penetration was both hot and cold at once and he could feel a ridge as it pushed easily past his rim. Cullen struggled to find the words to protest, then even thoughts to string together.

No previous lover had ever put fingers inside him, his body never having needed much in preparation. Somehow it made the whole act dirtier and he wanted to shy away from the attention, unsure as to why it was being spent on him when he was already reduced to his most base and desperate nature.

Anders pushed his thumb in deeper and then crooked it, using it as a hook to hold Cullen still. The next two fingers pushed in beside it and Cullen felt a hot shame at how easily they slid home. Outside of him the tip of Anders' little finger teased the base of his cock and he shuddered at being touched in two places at once. Anders squeezed his balls with his other hand, rolling them in his palm, and Cullen moaned, wishing for something to bite down on, a body to hide his head against, a bed to crawl within and spread-eagle out on so the fingers could slide deeper in.

"How well you take this," Anders muttered, as if just for him, and he released Cullen's sac to slid a hand up his chest and wrap fingers back around his neck.

"But it's not enough, is it, Templar? You ache to be filled with more."

Cullen shook his head. At the same time his cock twitched against his stomach and he felt another surge of slickness between his cheeks. Unbidden, thoughts of being stretched wider and fucked harder filled his mind and became in a moment the only thing he could think about. The idea that other mages might be waiting to use him suddenly begat a thrill. The thought of other sets of hands touching him, pinching him, teasing his cock became so enticing it was unbearable and he shivered, his nipples suddenly prickling with pain.

"Please," he begged, though he was not sure whether it was for his fantasy to be fulfilled or for Anders to stop talking.

Anders laughed and with a sticky smack to Cullen's ass, pulled his fingers out.

It was a moment's relief to have him gone and then a sharp aching sensation hit Cullen. It wound up his body like a snake, pulling him taut and making him jerk as he tried to struggle and circumvent the pain. He had never felt anything like it before though his mind recalled lectures about unvirtuous omegas who were punished by being left unfulfilled.

"Easy, Templar," Anders said, placing his damp hand on Cullen's lower back and smoothing it across his skin. The pain eased a fraction. He turned Cullen's body to one side and Cullen had not enough to energy to fight it. It left him facing the wall and Cullen took the opportunity to gratefully place his hands back upon it and let them take some of his weight.

Anders' hand drew away and Cullen sensed a flare of magic from behind him. Then Anders chuckled and pressed something cold and hard against his body.

Cullen flinched against the feel of it. It didn't yield as it rolled against the skin of his ass and the weight of it could only suggest metal.

"A reasonable replica of your fancy sword," Anders said. "I think you'll find the handle will be a comfortable fit."

Cullen choked suddenly as his mind reeled. "No."

Anders' fingers had been bad enough, malleable and soft as they had searched out places inside of him that had felt good. For that to shift to some perversity designed deliberately to debase him seemed unbearably cruel. He would never be able to look at a single person who shared the dungeon with him again.

"No, I-"

"Will love it," Anders said, pressing the cold metal to his hole. "I can tell."

He started to edge it inside and Cullen could not help the way he jerked. It was cold, so much colder than Anders' fingers had been. It felt as if he was being filled with ice. He tried to escape it, struggling against the stone wall, but Anders was unyielding and Cullen's ass seemed eager to take it, giving way even as he stuttered out further protest.

Each inch had him sure that there could not be room for any more, until finally the onslaught slowed and the rounded tip of the pommel was pressed tight against the most intimate part of him.

He could barely breathe by the time it was finished. The handle was so wide at its start that he was sure it would split him if he moved even a muscle and where the grip widened near his entrance he felt so stretched he could not believe his body had taken it. A fear of causing himself physical damage warred against a shameful desire to push back and let himself be fucked with the thing.

Anders took the decision from him.

At the first movement of the sword back and forth, Cullen almost lost the thinking part of his mind. The rock of the pommel against his prostrate sent sparks all over. Within two or three strokes it was as if his body was no longer his own, and he almost laughed as he realised it was as if some pleasure demon had taken him to another plane. He suddenly hated every moment he had not spent feeling the way he did as the sword twisted and drove back into him. His body went light and he felt his mind drift somewhere where the only thing that mattered was Anders' rocking the blade in and out of him relentlessly.

His palms scraped uselessly against the wall as he moaned and gave in to something sweet and dizzying inside himself. He tried to reassert himself with one last struggle but it was too much and some part of him decided he had fought enough.

When the next stroke came, he pushed back into it and the pommel rubbed straight against the spot that sent rapture through his body. The sensation built and built as Anders' sped up. Cullen grew dizzy with it, his head soon too heavy to hold up as shivers raked his body.

Anders said something low in his mocking voice and Cullen could take no more. He gave into the waves of pleasure and let the next stroke start to tip him over the edge. 

Each thrust caused his body to hitch, tightening round the sword and causing little crests of pleasure. Cullen lost all sense of how many times it had pushed into him and pulled back, how many times he had tried to shamelessly rut backwards for more. More of the blade, more of Anders' hand tight on his hip, more of the little fires that went lit up all over his body.

A haze started to build and crept over him, dragging him under, then pushing him up to a glorious new height, a place he had never been before where the shivers seemed to last longer than he knew they could and ricochets of each sensation flared all over his body.

He came so hard he had to bite down on his own lip to stop himself from crying out. 

Anders slowed his thrusts with an approving noise and dragged his nails slowly down Cullen's back, then he slapped him hard on the ass.

"You please me."

Cullen felt a hot burn of shame in knowing there was no part of him that Anders had not now explored. It was done, he knew, he had just permitted himself to be the wanton plaything of a spirit-touched mage.

Anders leaned down and with a chuckle locked his mouth to Cullen's shoulder, scraping his teeth across the skin there then pausing to seal his mouth and suck hard.

He meant to leave a mark, Cullen knew. Something that would be visible to all who passed by the cell and all those just a few metres from it who had borne witness to the full extent of his surrender. Yet even as shame rose to settle like a lump in his throat he felt an inexorable warmth begin to worm through him, a strange enjoyment of being held in place and claimed

\----

Anders let him go as he started to sag against the wall, both his arms and legs giving up as one.

He left the sword inside Cullen, thick and unyielding, the only thing that held to the real world.

Aftershocks tickled at his nerves as he felt Anders press fingers teasingly to where it still penetrated his body.

"Have you not had enough?" Cullen gasped, incredulous.

Anders pulled his mouth away with a final scrape of his teeth.

"Not yet, Knight-Captain."

To his disgust, Cullen felt a faint tug of desire in his gut.

"Let's get rid of these now, shall we," Anders said as he reached up to the manacles that held Cullen's wrists. Cullen followed the movement with his head though he struggled to comprehend Anders' intention. It seemed too easy to think that they might be done, that he might have served his punishment and now be allowed to crawl away.

"Why?"

Anders laughed, cupping his face and using it to draw him close as the chains fell away with a final flick of his powerful hands.

"So we can lie down together, Templar, of course. So I can finally get to know you the way you ought to be known."


End file.
